


of man and monster

by funkism



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Butcher Army, Canon-Typical Violence, Dream Smp, Fight Scene, Gen, The Tunnel Fight, aka me taking creative liberties with one of my favorite moments from the exile arc, slight "canon divergence" in dialogue and blocking but otherwise compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:54:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29237166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/funkism/pseuds/funkism
Summary: The plan to execute Technoblade had been simple. And it’d been working, too.Right up until it didn’t.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Technoblade
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	of man and monster

**Author's Note:**

> world cold and hard, techno v quackity tunnel fight soft and warm. general cc inspired fic rules apply please exercise common sense on ao3 and life at large.

“Where’d he go? Where’d he _go_?”

“There’s no— _fuck_ , what can we do?”

“I didn’t see _shit!_ ”

Quackity stands at the edge of the hole he’d left Carl in, impervious to the frantic chatter around him and Phil’s loud cackling as he tries to think this one out.

It didn’t make any sense. None of it made any fucking _sense_. 

Punz, and, fuck—had Ponk been there, too? Whatever, that’s someone else’s problem. Quackity had pulled the lever. The anvil _dropped_ and Techno should be _dead_ , but he _isn’t_ , and what the hell was that _light show_? 

And now, the cherry on top: Carl.

_How did he get Carl?_

Quackity’s fingers tighten around his axe’s handle, mind racing as he looks back and forth between the ditch and the hillside he saw Techno disappear into. Something shimmers against the grass and Quackity wavers where he stands. A flash of purple, taunting him as the figure runs, a hasty wall of cobble left in its wake. 

Anger, hot and ugly, curdles in Quackity’s stomach. 

Of course. _Of course_ , Dream had to get himself involved. _He_ moved Carl.

He gave Technoblade an out. 

The green bastard just couldn’t resist, could he? 

Fundy stammers behind him, hand on Quackity’s shoulder as he points. “Is that—?” 

“Fellas,” Quackity says, shaking Fundy off and hoisting the butt of his axe over his shoulder instead. “You’re gonna have to give me a second.”

He doesn’t give them time to ask what for. He doesn’t look back. He _moves_. Because Techno’s getting away and Dream thinks he’s _so clever_ and Quackity’s sick of both of them _winning_ all the goddamn time. 

As he gets closer he can see the tunnel opening isn’t even blocked off all the way, slivers of light escaping through the gaps in the rocks. With a steady exhale, Quackity fits his hands wherever he can fit them and _pulls_ , shuffling out of the way when half of the cobble falls out of place. He coughs as the dirt they kick up rises.

He glances at the pier. The other Butchers are already wandering back to Phil’s house, all except for Ranboo. The kid makes a vague hand gesture that Quackity can’t decipher. He turns back to the tunnel. _No time_.

There’s another haphazard wall of what looks like excess cobble left behind by whoever made the tunnel. Quackity crouches behind it and waits, listening for any sign that Techno’s close, but the only sounds he hears are faint, mere echoes from a distance. A peek around the wall shows him the tunnel’s a straight shot from here. A long one, at that. 

“What the fuck is this?” he whispers. 

He fidgets with part of his apron before smoothing it down. He takes a deep breath to steel himself and stands. Takes another, and he’s walking. Whatever’s at the other end is obscured in darkness, even with the torches mounted intermittently along the tunnel walls. 

Normally he’d count them. Or blow them out, or skip, or talk loudly just to hear the tunnel echo his words back to him, but he’s possessed, a mask of tranquility over the usual noise in his brain. He’s focused on keeping his footsteps light and that’s about it.

The dark end of the tunnel eventually melts away to reveal a room. A room made of blackstone, a wooden sign hammered down in front of it that gives Quackity pause. 

_Final Control Room._

He raises his eyebrows. 

A snort startles him enough to raise his axe, heart ready to jump out of his chest until he realizes it’s just Carl.

Wait. No, not _just_ —

“We gotta get out of here,” Techno mutters, rifling through one of the chests pushed up against the wall. Behind him is another tunnel opening, this one even jankier than the first. “I need a lead, how did he not—”

He turns as if to talk to Carl then stills upon seeing Quackity.

“Oh,” he says. 

The chest lid he’d propped open drops shut with a heavy thud. 

Quackity stares at him for a second, feels a familiar sense of doubt before Techno’s imposing figure. He’s bigger than Quackity, intimidating pig head framed by thick tusks. His attention is drawn to the fact that he isn’t wearing his crown. It must’ve fallen off sometime before the execution. 

Attempted execution. 

Maybe he’ll go back and find it, keep it as a trophy. 

He smirks at the thought then remembers himself. He hasn’t won _yet_. It doesn’t escape him that Techno’s wearing iron armor now, that he’s got a pickaxe and his pockets are full again, presumably with whatever was in those chests. They’d been empty before. 

_Drop your shit_ , he’d said. _Armor fucking off_. 

“Yeah, _oh_ ,” he says now. Quackity waves his axe loosely, the blade shining as he tips it towards Techno. “What the fuck is this?” The events of the trial play in his head again. “How the fuck—how the hell did that anvil not kill you?”

The other man shifts, eyes lingering on Quackity’s hands. It’s his turn to smirk now, lip curling around his tusks as he nudges Carl into a corner. 

“Did you really think, Quackity, that you could kill me that easily?”

_Easily_. Quackity remembers Tubbo and Fundy building the rig that drops the anvil, remembers how many times they almost fell, redstone flaking off the wood and onto the pier below as they worked. _Easily_ , Quackity thinks bitterly.

“How did you do it?” he asks again. Techno sidesteps and Quackity does the same, the two of them circling each other in the tiny control room.

“You think death can stop me Quackity?” Techno says. Quackity opens his mouth, but Technoblade continues. “You know what? I got a lot to say. I was gonna say it at the trial but we got a little interrupted, Quackity. You know, I tried...” and then he’s on his fucking _anarchy_ bullshit again—goverment this, and government that—and really, Quackity could not be any _less_ interested in hearing it all again. 

It’s all just _ideas_ with him at the end of the day, isn’t it? It isn’t fucking _practical_.

“You don’t understand,” he says when Techno’s finished his spiel. “This isn’t about _government_ and _anarchy_. You think I give a shit about what you stand for? No, no. You’re on the hit list, Techno.”

“What hit list—?”

“You’re on the fucking _hit list_. You have a due, and _I’m_ collecting. This is about _consequence_ , about taking back _power_ , about _respect_. See, I don’t care how long it fucking takes me or what I have to do to get you Techno, I’m going to fucking _kill_ you.” Quackity takes a deep breath as the last sentence settles. An excited shiver runs down his spine; the mask is pleased. He smiles wide. “I’m going to kill you, Technoblade.”

Techno’s gaze flicks down Quackity’s front where his apron’s stained with red blotches. He tilts his head back, so he’s looking down his snout at him. 

“I just have one question Quackity,” he says.

Quackity rolls his shoulders back, muscles taut in anticipation. “What? What is it?”

“Do you think _you’re_ enough to kill me?” he asks. “Even unarmed, with iron armor? Do you really think _you_ can take me?” 

It’s a fair question, objectively speaking. On a level playing field Quackity’s chances of winning a fight against Technoblade are slim. But this isn’t a level playing field, and frankly, Quackity doesn’t care. The way he said ‘ _you_ ’ was a hit to his pride. And Quackity’s got a whole lot of pride. 

“Do _I_ —? Fuck you. I do,” he says. “You know what? Let’s fucking find out right now, you son of a bitch.” Quackity winds his arm back, chest so full of determination he could choke on it. He’s on the downswing when Techno runs right at him, parrying Quackity’s move by using his momentum against him and slipping past.

Quackity swears and chases after him, back the way he came. Techno flips the pickaxe in his hand and lodges it into the wall of the tunnel, pulling so forcefully a part of it comes crumbling down between them. 

“You’re fucking joking,” Quackity pants, and Techno _laughs_. “Oh, fuck you.”

He kicks enough of it away so he can shove past, catching up to Techno right as he’s turning over one of the pouches strung around his waist, splash potions shattering at his feet. Purple fumes swirl and dissipate on the ground, appearing and disappearing with the flicker of the torchlight. 

Quackity falters when he sees something gold in Techno’s free hand. It looks like a villager’s head, emeralds inlaid in the eyes. Something clicks in the back of his mind but he has to ignore it, deal with it later if he’s right. He rushes Techno and takes another swing at him, missing the first time but landing the second, axe denting the iron plate around his shoulder. Techno shoves him off with a low hiss, glancing at his arm before he’s swinging his pickaxe in a wide arc, forcing Quackity backwards to avoid getting hit. 

He winces, ever so slightly, glancing down at his right arm. He looks… annoyed, almost. Quackity must’ve cut into more than just Techno’s armor. 

Quackity’s chest bubbles with manic glee and he can’t help but laugh as he swings again, grazing the front of Techno’s chestplate and aiming for the same spot on the backswing. Techno blocks it with the handle of his pickaxe, the wood catching under the curve of Quackity’s axe. Quackity hums, driving his shoulder into the butt of the axe, forcing Technoblade backwards until he hits the wall. 

There’s a moment where the edge of his axe is _so_ fucking _close_ to the exposed skin of Techno’s neck. It reminds Quackity viscerally of the posters he and the other Butchers had put up in their secret meeting room. Techno squirms and the axe dips even closer. Quackity laughs again then stops, smile dropping as he realizes Techno just pocketed the golden villager head. With both hands supporting the pickaxe he shoves Quackity off him rather quickly.

“Get out of here,” he drawls. “I have a pickaxe—” he spins it in a neat little circle here because he’s a fucking show-off even as his expression morphs into something more serious, something bordering on sinister “—and I’ll put it through your teeth.” He raises both arms until the pickaxe is inches away from scraping the tunnel’s ceiling, torchlight casting shadows across his face as he says again, this time louder: “ _I’ll put it through your teeth_ , Quackity!”

Dread slides cold and fast down the back of Quackity’s throat, but he swallows it down. He’s too wired to think about any other outcomes, to think maybe this _won’t_ end with him on top. If he were to let go of his axe he’s sure his hands would be shaking. He’s so _close_. He can taste it. The rush he’d get from finally putting down _The Blade_. 

His mouth twitches at the thought.

Maybe he’d shift if he had time to think, but he doesn’t. In fact, he’s already talking, mouth on autopilot as his body goes through the motions of the fight, ducking under the next arc Techno cuts through the air.

“— _so_ much fucking damage to everything we’ve been building all a-fucking-long, Techno!” And, well, those feel more like someone else’s words than _his_ , but he has a flair for the dramatics, too. Sue him. 

“If there’s _one_ fight that I’m going to win, it’s this one, baby, so come on, _let’s go_. Fucking _try me_ ,” he spits. “Let’s go. Let’s fucking go, Techno.” 

Quackity cracks his neck and shakes out the sensation that shoots down his arms, flexing his fingers as he hops on the balls of his feet.

There’s a low rumbling sigh, and then Technoblade’s rushing him in a blur of arctic blue and silver, pickaxe discernable by it’s enchanted glow. Quackity spins out of the way, kicking off against the opposite wall and jumping, aiming for that same spot on Technoblade’s neck. This time however it’s Techno that ducks out of the way, shouldering up under Quackity’s right arm as he’s falling, upsetting his balance and sending him to the ground. 

The axe slips out of his hands and Quackity scrambles to pick it up, sweat beading at his temples when he _can’t fucking find it_. 

Something heavy slams into his back, forcing the breath out of his lungs as his armor clangs in a way that sets his teeth on edge. Quackity wrenches himself back to face Techno with a half-cough half-gasp just in time to see the pickaxe coming back down. He rolls out of the way with a flinch, hears the pick lodge into the packed dirt next to his head. 

He picks up a decent sized rock and winds his arm back, launching it at Techno’s face. It lands, hitting his snout, and forcing him back a step. Quackity wastes no time in getting up and shoving him back even further, squinting for his axe in the dark spots on the tunnel floor. 

No way it just _disappeared_ —no,no, wait— _there_. 

He lunges for it, fingers barely around the handle when there’s another awful _clang_. 

The force of Techno’s hit knocks Quackity’s helmet right off his head. Sends it rolling down the tunnel like a pathetic purple tumbleweed.

Quackity’s vision swims, his legs buckling under him from the blow. He lands hard on his hands and knees.

“Fuck,” he says.

Heavy footsteps stop behind him and Quackity laughs, wry.

“ _Fuck_.”

A swift kick to his ribs and he’s down completely, breath running ragged. The pointed end of the pickaxe hooks under one of Quackity’s shoulders and flips him so he’s lying on his back, forced to look up at Techno.

“I want you to remember this, Quackity,” he says, looming tall in the dim tunnel light. “I want you to remember that you’re here because there was no other way.”

_We won’t let you get out of here, fuckin’, in one piece_ , he’d told Techno, back at the lodge. _We’re gonna bring you back to L’Manburg. You’re gonna fucking come with us. There’s no other way around it, okay?_

That felt like ages ago, but it’s been, what, thirty minutestops? 

Such a short time for everything to go to shit.

And what had Techno said? If there’s no other way—

_If there’s no other way, I choose blood!_

Of course.

“I want you to remember... that I’m a man of my word.”

_I’ll put it through your—_

Quackity shudders. Flicks his tongue over his teeth. 

His eyes snap to the side. His axe is _right there_. 

He inhales then lunges for it again, keeling to the side when his head pounds in protest. 

Fuck, _fuck, fuck_. 

Techno reaches down to flatten him with his pick and Quackity bats it away wildly, scrambling until he somehow manages to get a grip on the collar of Techno’s chestplate, pulling him down low enough to punch him with his other hand. A bruising ache flares across his knuckles and then his wrists when Techno wrenches his hands away. 

The kick to his side had been cold, efficient. The one to his chest is _rough_. 

Quackity lets out a low wheeze from the ground.

That’s a double whammy for the back of his head, he thinks. 

Technoblade resumes his position. The pickaxe goes up for the last time.

At first, there’s nothing. There’s the— _sounds_ , and what he can _see_ , but he doesn’t feel anything right away. 

And then he does. 

Quackity chokes, an awful gurgling as his face explodes in what he can only describe as _raw pain_. The amount of blood that fills his mouth would put the stains on the Butchers’ aprons to shame. 

His throat instinctively works to swallow, but doesn’t get far past the pickaxe lodged in it.

Technoblade rights himself, empty-handed. He doesn’t spare Quackity a second glance before he’s walking away, muttering to himself. “I gotta get out of here. I gotta—”

Quackity’s senses give out soon after.

Well, all of them except taste. 

The taste of iron is so overpowering he’s sure it’ll follow him long, long after this life of his ends. 

Outside, silence falls upon the pier.

**Quackity was slain by Technoblade**. 

**Author's Note:**

> title more or less from the bells of notre dame because I WAS listening to it the entire time I was writing this, thank you. 
> 
> if you experience anything at all while reading this I would love to hear about it because I experience So Much thinking about this fight.....!!


End file.
